Dianna's Dream Come True

Dianna's Dream Come True

Dianna woke up and looked at the clock.  She still had three more hours she could sleep but she was too excited.   Deciding that getting up was better than tossing and turning she headed downstairs and made a cup of coffee and sat down at her computer.   Today was going to be a great day...she hoped.  It was the day a long held dream was about to come true.

Dianna had always been quiet and thoughtful.  But she also had vision and passion guided by a firm belief that the world would be a better place if people were just kinder to one another.   She had practiced "paying it forward" all of her adult life.   Random acts of kindness, whether to strangers or to people she knew, whether anonymously or in person, she enjoyed doing for others.   Paying for the order of the person in line behind her at the drive thru, handing out McDonald's or Tim Horton's gift cards to homeless people she saw on the streets.  Once she even handed out gift cards to the men collecting garbage on her street.   It filled her soul to see the joy her actions brought and she always encouraged people to do the same for someone else.   

As she got older Dianna found that she wanted to spread the word about Random Acts of Kindness to people on a larger scale, but she wasn't sure how to go about it.  Painfully shy, with a chronic and acute social phobia, she knew that she would never be able to get up in front of people and talk about her experiences.   She had written a book and talked about it there, but the book wasn't well distributed and only a few friends had read it.

The opportunity to enlighten others came to her in an unexpected way.   She had attended the First Unitarian Church a few times with her new girlfriend, Anna.   Last November Anna was taking part in the Fall Festival  and would be performing a musical number.   Dianna planned to attend.   Anna told her there would a be large auction and she brought home the catalogue of all the things that would auctioned that night.  Some of it was silent auction, but there was also a live auction.   One item in particular caused Dianna's heart to leap in to her throat.   A sermon was available for purchase at the auction. The winner would be allowed to have the minister write and deliver a sermon on a topic of their choice.   Dianna's mind raced with the possibilities.  What better way to get her vision out there and inspire others than by having it read from the pulpit!   She decided that she absolutely had to win this sermon!

On the night of the Festival Dianna was beside herself with excitement.   While she enjoyed the performances, she couldn't stop thinking about the live auction and whether or not she would actually win the sermon.   She had it all planned out.  She knew exactly what she wanted that sermon to be about and how she wanted it organized.   Setting herself a rather high limit for bidding, she was ready to win.  Finally the time came and she bid...higher and higher and higher.   Eventually it was down to just one person and herself.  She was getting even more anxious as the bidding came closer to her limit.  She couldn't lose this!  It was a chance of a lifetime. 

  

"Do I hear $500?"  the auctioneer shouted.  Dianna raised her hand.

"....$550...?"    her opponent raised his hand.

Her limit was $600! She was going to lose!  Diana felt the tears welling up.  She couldn't go past her limit....and yet...

"Do I hear $600.00"  Dianna's hand shot into the air along with her hopes and dreams.    She held her breath and looked at the man who was bidding against her.   Time seemed to stand still.....

"Going once.....going  twice....."   Dianna's heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear the auctioneer.   Please, please, please...she thought.

"SOLD!!  For $600.00

She had won!!   There were no words to describe how she felt at that moment

.

And that is how she ended up sitting in her chair at 530 a.m. on a Sunday in April. Today was the day the sermon would be read.   And Anna, who was still sleeping peacefully upstairs, was going to be leading the service.   Anna had agreed to read something that she, Dianna had written.  

Finally the time came to leave for church.  They picked up their friend Liz on the way.  Anna managed to get her own anxiety under control  enough to help Dianna not dissolve into a puddle of anxiety.   She and Liz joked and gabbed all the way to church in an effort to distract her.   It didn't really help, but she loved Anna for trying.

As people filed in to the church Dianna began to despair that not many people were in attendance.  But Dianna reassured her that Unitarians were notoriously late and that they would all come in when the bell rang.   She tried to relax and focus on the service. 

The whole service from start to finish was wonderful.  The minister did an excellent job in creating a message of hope and kindness that Dianna felt she had written herself.  In fact she had quoted some passages from Dianna's own book.   It was finally out there, her vision of people paying it forward and carrying out random acts of kindness, was about to be realized.    The congregation was challenged to do three random acts of kindness.   Even the children were encouraged to do the same.  The minister gave them each a loonie and a toonie.  The loonie was to keep for themselves and the toonie was to use to do something nice for someone else...someone that was not a family member.  

After the service, many people came up to Dianna and thanked her for suggesting such an excellent topic, and it seemed as though people were quite receptive to the challenge that was put down for them.   It made Dianna feel wonderful. 

After church Dianna, Anna and Liz went out for brunch.   Dianna was feeling totally exhilarated and also profoundly relieved that it was over and had been received well.  She looked forward to the service in May when people would be asked to share the random acts they had carried out.

Carly Gets Chilled

Carly Gets Chilled

As far back as Carly could remember, she was irresistibly drawn to ice puddles.   It was impossible for her to walk past a puddle covered with ice and not jump on it.   No matter how often the ice would give way and fill her boot with frigid water, she would not stop playing in the puddles.   Her mother got angry with her every day when she came home with soaking wet feet and sloshy boots.   Carly can still remember the smell of those boots over the heat vent drying so she could wear them the next day.  Sometimes it was a damp boot that she had to wear.   She didn't mind.  She never learned to stay away.  Until one March day in 1972 when she was 13 years old.

Carly played viola in the school orchestra when she was in grade 6, 7, and 8.  In grade 8, she was chosen to be part of a stringed ensemble that practiced at the nearby high school.  None of her friends thought it was such a special honour, after all being in the orchestra was for nerds but, Carly felt special to be chosen.   Plus they got to leave school early on ensemble days to make the long walk to the high school.   

One day in March, Carly and a few of her musician friends headed out to ensemble practice.   Carly had an enormous crush on one of the boys, Shaun, who didn't even know she existed.   The other boy was Callum, who had been her friend since kindergarten.    She was happy that day, even though the wind was bitter and the sky was gray. She was with her friends and Shaun had joined them.  

"Let's take the short cut through the swamp!"  he said.   "We'll get there faster!"

It wasn't really a swamp Shaun was talking about .  It was more of a marsh.  The boys often went there and collected tadpoles and cattails to bring for show and tell.   The principal of the school often warned them to stay away from that area,  saying it was dangerous, and would be easy to get lost in.

"We're not supposed to go in there"  said Heather was probably the nerdiest of the nerds.  One of those kids that follows the rules and does everything she is told.

"Aw come on! "  said Shaun, scoffing at Heather  "What's so bad about cutting through there." 

"Well you do what you want, Shaun " said Elizabeth who was Heather's best friend.

"I'll go with you Shaun" said Callum.  "I don't want to go the long way, it's freezing out here.."  He looked at Carly.  "Are you coming?"   and he and Shaun started off.    

"Carly you better not, you'll get in trouble"  the girls said.   But Carly  wanted to go with the boys.  With Shaun.  And she knew Callum would tease her mercilessly if she didn't follow them.

"Wait up!"  she called and ran after them.

Carly and the boys made their way in to the bush laughing and joking and horsing around they way adolescents do.   Carly's heart soared every time Shaun spoke to her or laughed at her jokes.   Sometimes it even seemed that Callum and Shaun were competing for her attention.  She was having way more fun with them than she would have  had with Heather and Elizabeth who were no doubt talking about how much trouble the three of them were going to be in.  

As they got deeper in to the bush the ground became softer and there was deep thick mud all over the place.   It became treacherous walking through and their boots became caked with mud. Carrying her instrument  and a bag with her shoes in it, made the trek even more awkward.   At one point Carly wasn't sure Shaun knew the way through the marsh and worried they were going to be lost.   As they trudged through the muddy brush, her hair kept getting tangled in branches and she felt a tear in her jacket.   She was going to be in trouble for that.   And for the muddy boots.  But she dared not complain.  She would die before she would ever act girly or childish in front of a boy.  Especially a boy like Shaun.

Finally, just when Carly was starting to feel really panicky, they emerged from the bush and she could see the high school right across the road.   She was pretty sure it had not been any shorter to go the way they had, but it had been fun anyway....sort of.   Carly's boots were caked with mud, and she was a mess from her encounters with the bushes.   They came to a culvert with a steep embankment up to the road.  Carly tried in vain to clean the mud off her boots.  They boys seemed oblivious to their own dishevelled state.   

And then Carly noticed the culvert had a layer of ice over the water and a bit of water on top.   Her heart lifted.  She would be able to clean her boots in the culvert, they would be fine when she got home and her mother would never be the wiser.   The boys had jumped over the culvert and were on their way up the embankment.  

"C'mon Carly, we're going to be late!"  Callum yelled.

 

"I'm just going to clean my boots off.."  she said

And she stepped out onto the ice.   The ice that was her kryptonite.  The ice she could not have resisted even if her boots had not been muddy.  She sloshed her boots around a bit to get them clean and then it happened.   The ice broke and Carly found herself waist deep in the frigid water!  She screamed.  This was way worse than a soaker!   This was horrible!  She held her viola and her shoes up above her waist to keep it from the water.   To make matters worse she heard Shaun and Callum laughing at her predicament.  Shaun took off and Callum started after him.

"Callum!  I can't climb up!"  she shouted "Please help me!"   she had pulled herself out of the water and was shivering at the bottom of the embankment.   She saw Callum looking towards Shaun and then back at her.   To his credit, his compassion and their long standing friendship won out and he helped her up the embankment before running off laughing.   

In abject misery Carly trudged in to the high school.   She couldn't go home, it was much too far to walk, and she was afraid of the wrath of her mother.   She went in to the bathroom and dried herself off as best as she could, removing  her soaking wet leotards and putting on her shoes.   She had no choice but to walk in to her music class.   Everyone turned to stare at her and her face burned in humiliation.  The music teacher wrapped her in his coat.  And they got on with the lesson.  

When Carly's mother picked her up, she didn't say anything about Carly's ordeal.   She knew her daughter had learned a hard lesson about walking on ice.  After all there was nothing like public humiliation in front of your peers to drive a lesson home.

 

Bonnie's Brave Birds

Bonnie's Brave Birds

It was a sunny spring morning late in March.  Bonnie opened her eyes and her heart sank as it had every morning since her arrival here six months ago.  Groaning,  she climbed out of bed and walked over to the small window.   The view was less than spectacular, just a field, a fence and a lone tree struggling to come to life and celebrate the end of winter.   Bonnie had made a point of looking out this window and meditating every morning.   Usually the meditation was more of a reflection on her life and the mistakes she had made, and did little to calm her mind.   However, looking outside was a privilege she did not take for granted.  

On this particular morning Bonnie noticed a bustle of activity at the little tree.   Sparrows!  Her heart soared at the sight of them and she wished she could hear their cheerful chirping, but the small window was sealed shut.   Sparrows were her favourite birds in spite of their brown and uninteresting plumage.  She called them "hero birds" because they were so brave.   These little birds were so common, most people probably didn't even give them much notice.  

 But Bonnie did.  And this morning she watched as the little birds cheerfully created a nest in the tree.   She smiled as she saw them busily picking up sticks in their tiny beaks and arranging them on the nearest branch.  They were so industrious and so adept at  what they were doing.  She noticed they were working together;  one bird was on the branch doing to the building while the other one gathered materials.   It was amazing to her the way they made use of whatever was on hand, sticks, leaves, their own feathers and even pieces of cigarette butt that someone had carelessly discarded.

Bonnie had started being aware of sparrows shortly after 911.  At a time when she wondered how the nation  would ever recover from such a senseless tragedy.  How would we would rebuild and move on, and start trusting the world again.   It was a dark time.   She went about her daily life with a sadness and despair that she, like so many others, could not put words to.   On a particularly bad day she was coming out of the grocery store and she heard a ruckus up in the steel  beams of the store.  Loud chirping, tweeting and bustling.   She looked up and saw that it was a bunch of brown birds and they were building a nest up there.   For several moments she stood amazed at this bit of nature amongst the bustle of humanity below.  

After that moment outside the store, Bonnie started to notice these brown creatures in various places.  And she was filled with admiration at these little beings that so bravely carried on their lives in spite of what humans were doing to the earth.  She saw them building nests in the most unlikely places; under store signs, in rafters, in holes in concrete.    They took baths in puddles in parking lots, seemingly heedless of passing traffic.   Once during a sudden rain storm she came running to her car in a hurry to get out of the rain, and she noticed two little sparrows sitting on her tire, the wheel well offering a safe haven for them.     But her most joyous experience of the these birds had been the morning she had awoken to the ruckus of dozens of sparrows that had gathered in a nearby bush and were having a rowdy bird party as the sun came up.  It was a wonderful way to start the day.

As Bonnie watched the busy birds in the tree outside her window she felt a stirring of hope well up inside her.   She would look forward to watching this bird family as they lived their life in her view.  She knew there would be babies soon.   She also realized that the coming leaves would obscure a lot of what she would see, but that didn't matter.  They were in there, and life was continuing on and would continue no matter what happened in her small world.

Bonnie wished she could be more like those birds.  If she had been able to live her life  so certain that she mattered, if she had adapted to her surroundings, finding a way to survive using all of the many resources available to her, how different would her life have been?

The scrape of a lock and the clang of a door brought Bonnie abruptly back to herself.  It was another day.  Another fight for survival.  

"Okay Hawkins, let's go.  It's time."   the matron barked.   Bonnie took a deep breath and gave one last glance out the window.  And there was a little sparrow on the ledge, cocking its head at her.  It took a hop forward gave a peep that she could not hear and flew off. 

"HAWKINS!  MOVE IT!"   

Bonnie turned and walked out of her cell.

Angela

 Angela Answers

"If he says one thing to me about how much work I am NOT doing I am going to tell him to go fuck himself. "   Rita said  "Sorry, I'm being a bitch but I've had it with his bullshit."

"I hear you girlfriend.  He is a total asshole.   I can't believe the way he talks to us.  And did you see the way he looked at Ginny the other day when she was wearing that skirt?"   said Roberta

"I know!" shouted Ginny, full of righteous indignation.  "If he does that again, I'm going to HR and complain.   This bitch doesn't take shit from anyone". 

"What about you Angela, he gives you more grief than any of us.  How long are you going to put up with that?"

Angela smiled, but kept  silent as she looked at her co workers, all puffed up with anger as they sat around the board room table.  They were so full of bravado and feminist rage now.  But she knew what was coming.  It always happened when there was a staff meeting.

The door opened and Mr. Hendershott  (or Hendershit as the women liked to call him behind his back) walked in to the room.   He was tall and handsome, all expensive suit and cologne, and he had a stare that could pin a butterfly to a board midflight.  The worst thing about him was that he was about 15 years younger than his staff.  Fresh out of university and full of book knowledge, his idealism had no place in the real world that the women who worked for him had to deal with every single day. 

"Okay Ladies, let's get this show on the road, we've got a lot of work to do!"  he said, as if they were the ones that were late, not him.

Suddenly the bitches in the room transformed into subservient drones as they bustled around making Mr. Hendershot comfortable and fussing with hair and clothing so they looked their best.   Ginny ran to the coffee maker and poured a large cup for him.  She leaned over as she placed it in front of her boss, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage

.

"Nice view.  Thank you" he smirked "I bet you were a knockout in your day".   Ginny blushed a furious red, giggled half heartedly and rushed back to her seat. 

 

Angela was not surprised at this behaviour.  She knew way too many women who liked to brag about what bitches they were.  They were the kind of women who loudly proclaimed their bitchiness to all who would listen.  Their Facebook pages were full of "I'm a bitch" memes.  And yet these same women became simpering fools in the face of testosterone.  But Angela had a plan that she hoped would show them that you can be a bitch without being in your face about it.

"Miss Hanrahan have you got that report I asked you for?"   He didn't look at her, just flipped through his notes.

"Yes I do."  she said looking directly at him and holding it out.

"Well where is it?"  he asked.    He looked up and saw her holding the folder out to him.  She saw a flush rise up his neck .   He grabbed it and frowned.

"Miss Hamilton, you know I like my reports in a red folder, not a blue one. "  he tossed the report back in front of her. 

  

He hadn't even looked at the report.  And he had deliberately called her by the wrong name.   None of this was new behaviour.   He had been a jerk from day one.  And they had all tolerated it, fearing for their jobs.   They all knew they could be replaced by a young, ambitious blond at any moment.   But Angela had had enough.  She took a deep breath.

"That is a red folder sir."  she said, her face calm and serious.

" Miss Taliban I am not colour blind.  That folder is green."   He looked at the other women sitting around the table.   " I know that once  you get to a certain age, the eye sight starts to go...perhaps that's the case here?  Rita I wouldn't expect you to know the colour of a folder since I doubt you've laid your hands on many of them....but the rest of you...anyone want to help Miss Hooligan here?" 

  

Angela looked at her co workers hoping they would use some of that bitch they claimed to have.  She raised her eyebrows.  

Rita was near tears at his last remark.  No one worked harder than she did in this office.  Reports were not in her job description and Hendershot knew it.  Angela's heart sank, Rita was going to let her look foolish. 

 

But Angela soon realized the tears were rage, not hurt, as Rita said  "The folder is red sir...."  The room fell deadly silent as the boss looked at his employees and then at the folder.

Ginny giggled.  "Is this some kind of test Mr. Hendershot?"

"Looks pretty red to me....sir"  Roberta said evenly

Hendershot grabbed the report from Angela's hands, his face steely but the flush creeping higher up his collar.

"I don't have time for your silly games.  Let's get on with it."  

At the end of the meeting, which was mercifully brief for a change, Hendershot stood up and without looking at them  said "Back to work ladies".

"Yes Mr. Hendershit"  Angela said.  He paused with is hand on the doorknob.   

"Excuse me, Miss Hanrahan?"  he asked, using her proper name. 

"I said 'yes Mr Hendershot"   she said giving him a puzzled smile.   He stared at her a moment and then stormed out.

"OH MY GOD, Angela, are you crazy??"  Her co workers all gaped at  her in amazement.

"No, not at all. And thanks for backing me up. We bitches have to stick together right?".

Laughter Really Is The Best Medicine

I won some tickets to a comedy show for tonight, so I invited my ex, T,  to join me.  Friendship has been hard for us in the six months since we brought up but comedy was always something we really enjoyed so I asked her to come.  It was supposed to be a group thing, but for one reason or another it ended up being the two of us.  We went to the Showtime Comedy Club in St. Catharines and saw Larry Smith.  Marc Sinodino's was the host.  Some guy named Levi was the opening act.  We had a GREAT time.   Marc and Larry had us in stitches and Levi did his best, but he was a bit off his game tonight I think.   And T  and I enjoyed each other's company in a way that hasn't happend since our love was new.   So it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and much needed after the week I have had.  

Laughter truly is a healing thing.  I have always believed that and tonight just reinforced that belief.  A medication I am on makes it hard for me to cry even while feeling profound sadness, some kind of weird side effect.  And I have needed that cry, needed that release of all the pent up sorrow. But after this evening's endorphin releasing belly laughs I feel better the way you do when you have a good cry.  The sadness is still there, but it's not as sharp.  It's more manageable.  Life doesn't look so shitty.  Humour has always been my go to when I am down.  I am at my funniest when life is hard, as long as I don't slide down the slope of depression.  Even then it's still there, just not as readily accessible.

I would like to continue to develop this friendship with T and I hope we can have more evenings like this.  Life is too short, there is too much sadness to keep holding on to past hurts and grievances.

Anyway, keep on laughing people, you will feel better, I promise.

Words are all I have

It's so hard to know what to say when you learn of a tragedy that has affected someone close to you.  And in this age of technology, the news is often learned through social media as was the case for my friend who's sister was killed in the car accident.  How to express condolences by words.  As a writer I love words and I value them greatly, but there are times where words just don't cut it.  And this is one of those times.  All of the trite phrases seem so empty.  It's so easy to say I'm sorry, I'll pray for you, my thoughts are with you, etc.  But none of those phrases convey the deepest feelings.  They are social niceties.  If my friend was here with me, I wouldn't say anything. I would just hold her and listen to her and let her cry and talk and whatever else she needed to do.  But she's with her family and texting is the only option right now.   What I can do is borrow against my line of credit and make a donation to the scholarship fund for the now motherless children.  And I will do that.  But still that seems not enough.   It will have to do for now.

When my other friend announced her cancer diagnosis to our choir last night, I was sitting beside her.  I was able to take her hand.   And I was able to rub her back as she struggled for the words she needed.  It meant so much more than anything I could have said. (In fact, the only thing I did say was FUCK).  I reacted from my heart, I didn't think about it, or question it, I just reached out.  Maybe she didn't want that from me, but I think she appreciated it.

It has always been hard for me to know what to do.  I worry about intruding. I want to respect the privacy and dignity of the person but at the same time let them know they are not alone.  I worry about presuming more in a friendship than they are feeling.  I imagine them thinking, "why would I want to talk to you? I have other friends."  And so sometimes I stay back.  But I know in my heart that gestures of kindness are seldom unwanted.   And so I push past that reluctance and put myself out there.

In our Unitarian faith one of the things we do when someone is suffering is offer to hold it for them.  When the burden is too great, we offer to hold it for a while, easing their pain even for a short time. I like the imagery of that.  It is not the same as owning it, or taking it, we merely hold it. I picture my hand out and someone placing there burden in my palm.   So in my heart tonight I am holding the suffering of these people close to me.